Classic Poem

The kisse with so much strife
Which I late got, sweet heart,
Was it a signe of death, or was it life?
Of life it could not bee,
For I by it did sigh my soule in thee;
Nor was it death, death doth no ioy impart.
Thou silent stand'st, ah! what thou didst bequeath,
To mee a dying life was, liuing death.