Sonnet Poem by robert dickerson

Excellent truth-oh spring-drawn purity,
where, in what lands have you been woven
if not in that celestial city,
if not upon the looms of very heaven?
But some fall short-a blend of love and chance
can never substitute for love alone
which must be pure and simple as a dance
which must be smooth and simple as a stone.
OK. It's all right. I get the picture, dove-
Everything by order squalid, evil:
Even one we love might be a devil;
but can't one dropp of Love brighten the mixture?
and radiant Good, the sweetest known elixir
be born thereof-one single dropp of love?