Ultima Thule Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

The tides roll white and pale
On a shingly, stormy strand,
And the seabirds sweep and wail
In the swing of the seaborn gale
Over the sand,
In Thule, Ultima Thule,
The lonely land.

Sometimes the icepack white
Sails by, all silent and grand,
And sometimes the lightning bright
Pierces the heart of the night
Like a fiery brand,
In Thule, Ultima Thule,
The lonely land.

Fronting the waters grey,
The halls of the ancients stand,
Fallen and gone to decay
With those who dwelt on a day,
A valiant band,
In Thule, Ultima Thule,
The lonely land.

Once they were kings on the sea;
Their ships now rot on the sand,
Fall'n is their high roof-tree,
And the fox and the wolf roam free
In those ruins grand,
In Thule, Ultima Thule,
The lonely land.