Classic Poem

Was it A forme, A Gate, a grace,
Was it their sweetnes meerly;
Was it the Heav'n of a bright face,
That made me Love so deerly;

Was it A skin of Silke or Snow,
That soule And sences wounded;
Was' t any of these or all of these,
Wher on my fayth was founded;

Ah no! 'twas a far deerer part
Then all the rest that won me,
'Twas A faire Cloathd, but faining hart
I Lov'de and has undone me.