There were a dozen dead bodies in the Euston road
Their outmind softened by the black dust
All was still, houses locked and empty, shops closed
But looters had helped themselves to wine and food
And outside a jewellers some gold chains and a watch
Were scattered on the pavement
In Bloomsbury the stillness grew even more profound
And hard unnerving feeling of suspense
Was though the destruction waited and isolated the countryside
Might at any moment strikes this greatious houses
At the very heart of London and leave all in smoking ruins
Ulla!
I stopped, staring toward to sound
It seemed as if that mighty desert of houses
Had found a voice for its fear and solitude
Ulla!
The desolating cry worked upon my mind
The wailing took possession of me
I was intensely weary, footsore, hungry and thirsty
Why was I wandering alone in this city of the dead?
Why was I alive, when London in state in its black shroud?
I felt intolerably lonely, drifting from street to empty street
Drawn inexorably towards that cry
Ulla!
I saw, over the trees littering in the sunlight
The hood of the Martians fighting machine
From which the howling came
I crossed Regents Canal
Now a smudging mass of dark red vegetation
And pushed on towards Primrose hill
There stood a second machine
Upright, but as still as the first
Ulla! Ul-!
Abruptly, the sound ceased
Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude, became unendurable
While that voice sounded, London had still seemed alive
But suddenly, there was a change
The passing of something I knew not what
Except now all that remained was this gaunt quite