EER

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EER

(communication)

EER

References in periodicals archive ?
It was Robert Burns who condemned extravagant occasions like the wedding as a "tinsel show" and wrote "The honest man tho e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that.
I have oft been told of Hell, And something of the latter I now know far too well; For the horrors that occurred that night with me will e'er remain; Pray God that their brutality shall ne'er occur again.
What Bradley's speaker calls for is the advent of a "New Minnesinger" (literally singer of love) to voice the experiences of women firsthand, to record not just the monumental aspects of life, but the mundane, ephemeral moments that occur away from the gaze of men and which they could never express or be made to understand: "Ah, would she but to us rehearse / Her first girl-life in April verse-- / A fairer spring-tide would be ours / Than e'er across the woodland flowers" ("The New Minnesinger" 67-70).
If e'er you go across the sea to Coventry, It may be at the closing of your day, You can sit outside the front door of a boozer, While the locals go around the back door way.
Here again is the stop-go pattern of early poems such as "Ode to the End"; after a magnificent invocation, stanza after stanza starts with an apostrophic push, seeking to sustain the momentum of desiring address, to "put out delight before left leaves // e'er leaving left, ghost snogging reader-less wacko.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, naught enters there, Of what validity and pitch so e'er, But falls into abatement and low price Even in a minute
Let us, all three, exemplify The most devoted, tender, ill-starred love Whose grievous history time will e'er record.
If I could tell the beauty of her eyes or count in number all her many graces, the age to come would say this poet lies, for ne're such beauty e'er touched Earthly faces.
No pleasant tale shall e'er be told, Nor things recounted done of old.
no; but while their flutt'ring sighs unite, No moisture e'er their glowing lips might cool, Swiftly dried up by passion's fierce delight.
Enter Caliban Caliban: As WICKED DEW as e'er my mother brushed With ravens feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both
Now Oxford's ta'en against another's/ Plot to smear a rhyming brothers;/ Lost for e'er to dreaming spires,/ She's cast into eternal fires