And this perilous bosom that Pulses with love Shall go down to the dust from which it arose,- Yet Daughter of Beauty, close, Close to its sumptuous warmth You hold my sorrowing head, And smile with shadowy eyes, And bid me to sleep again!
"Open Water"
Arthur Stringer
As the wind rises, mysterious Pulses of sound awaken in the rafters overhead.
"A Key to Lord Tennyson's 'In Memoriam'"
Alfred Gatty
She could hear her own Pulses thumping, and she put her hand to her throat.
"Command"
William McFee