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Thomas Moore - Come, Send Round the Wine
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Come, send round the wine, and leave points of belief 
   To simpleton sages and reasoning fools; 
This moment`s a flower too fair and brief 
   To be wither`d and stain`d by the dust of the schools. 
Your glass may be purple, and mine may be blue, 
   But, while they are fill`d from the same bright bowl, 
The fool who would quarrel for difference of hue, 
   Deserves not the comfort they shed o`er the soul. 

Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side 
   In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree? 
Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, 
   If he kneel not before the same altar with me? 
From the heretic girl of my soul should I fly? 
   To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss? 
No, perish the hearts, and the laws that try 
   Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this!
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