Crossword-Solution: MARGENT
Dictionary
| Word | Word Type | Definition |
|---|---|---|
| Margent | n. | A margin; border; brink; edge. |
| Margent | v. t. | To enter or note down upon the margin of a page; to margin. |
Anagrams
| Word | Anagrams | |
|---|---|---|
| MARGENT | anagram | GARMENT |
We have 1 clue for the answer “MARGENT”
| Clue | Answers |
|---|---|
| Edge | 67 answers |
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Kind of apple
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E
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A
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T
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E
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R
Hint 1 meaning
One who, or that which, eats.
Hint 2 anagram
RETAE
Hint 3 another clue
greedy person
13 +2
New Suggestion for "MARGENT"
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Sentences with MARGENT (5)
Yea, I shall be the first, so life endure, To lead the Muses with me, as I pass To mine own country from the Aonian height; I, Mantua, first will bring thee back the palms Of Idumaea, and raise a marble shrine On thy green plain fast by the water-side, Where Mincius winds more vast in lazy coils, And rims his margent with the tender reed.
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well: Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are? O, if thou have Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where, Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere! So may'st thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies! COMUS.
Sing hi ho, Jack Straw, we’ll put it in the margent, ’Twas not for justice or law that you were made a sergeant.
Across the margent of the world I fled, And troubled the gold gateways of the stars, Smiting for shelter on their changèd bars; Fretted to dulcet jars And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.
Nothing but this? Yes, as much love in rhyme As would be crammed up in a sheet of paper Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margent and all, That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.
Quotes with MARGENT (1)
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-imbroider'd vale Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well: Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are?