The days upon a week are seven,
The Moon upon the sky is one,
But I knoweth no shameful heaven
And tainted angels I know none.

The lovers that unite are two,
In seeds of love becometh three,
But I knoweth no sweet adieu
And no comforting memory.

The headings on the earth are four,
The points upon the heavens six,
But I knoweth no flawless lore
And broken hearts know not to fix.