Five Were Missing, by Lois Duncan was republished as Ransom. I'm reading the 1972 Signet version (yeah, a first printing that was lovingly preserved in someone's used bookstore/collection but highly acidified with age). Bought so that I could throw myself back into the Kodachrome slide of far flung childhood with mini-dresses and the impeachment of Nixon :-p. I'd missed books like these the first time around, I was probably busy reading about Norse gods or whatever. I'm also glad to read this version because typesetting-wise, it does nothing following the present Chicago Manual Of Style. No breaks for point-of-view, no italics for thoughts, and so on. I only know these things because I let the editor suss out those "do's and dont's" and then she tells me. It's refreshing. It's like reading the story in a rather raw fashion.
I'm reading it because my beta-reader had as a kid, and not only am I catching up with her knowledge-pool but because a project I may be attached to (or not), had her picking its particulars apart and then giving Five Were Missing as comparison. The depth in characterisations is making me miss the kinds of young people portrayed before YA formula.
"I met myself the other day, in quiet mouth, in eyes of gray–"
I'm only a third of the way through, but there is this poem fragment, and it doesn't come up anywhere on the net so perhaps the answer to its origin (or not), will come later.