I have trouble sticking strictly to the meter in English writing Norse poetry (but don't we all?) I tried, but I didn't let it rule the poem.
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In my home there is the ocean
Moisture constantly in motion
Thor throws his hammer, throws the dice
From cloud to storm to sea to ice

And the cold crags
are just as steep
And the dark waters
just as deep
As where the Norsemen used to sleep

Here is the fjord, here is the gull
Foam of the wave a ship may scull
Away you should, away to Vinland's west
Where green remains in Winter's breast

The leaping fish,
the western wine,
The mild winds
of the western clime,
I'm sure it's what you meant to find.

Away to me, far from the eastern shore
Where your tales fade and dwell no more
Arise again in this broad land
Where your descendants have a hand

Here is Valhalla, paradise
This land embraces every vice
An emerald land,
pearl without price-
Forevever mild, yet crowned with ice.

If only it was here you came
The land of towering trees and rain
What an empire you'd have made
By rule of might and rule of trade.