Scandinavian Vikings Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

From Denmark's shore, a restless tide,
To England's land, they strode with pride.
Across the seas, in Europe's heart,
The Danes took hold, and played their part.

Then Sweden's sons, on currents bold,
To eastern lands, their stories told.
To where the Golden City gleamed,
Of Constantinople, they brightly dreamed.

But Norsemen's souls, a freer kind,
To every breeze, their sails they'd wind.
No borders held, no lands defined,
Everywhere they pleased, they would find.

Iceland's ice, and Greenland's chill,
America's shores, their ships would fill.
Ireland's green, a land to build,
The Norsemen's reach, forever skilled.

They raided shores, with fury's gleam,
England, Europe, a fearsome dream.
To eastern realms, their legends stream,
Olaf Tryggvason, a vibrant beam.

And Harald Hardrada, king of might,
A warrior fierce, a burning light.
From fjords they rose, with power's height,
The Earls of Lade, in darkest night.

With brute strength vast, and cunning deep,
Their strength did dwarf, secrets to keep.
While others sought, in slumber's sleep,
The Norsemen wandered, they didn't weep.