From b593ecdd3486f4541c0bcd68beec9146d78813a2 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Andreas Stöckel Date: Wed, 1 Apr 2015 23:34:18 +0200 Subject: Add first integration tests * "poem" contains a nice use case for user defined syntax that still needs to be implemented (indent and dedent as open/close tag) * "simple_short_token" triggers a non-deterministic bug that is not caught by valgrind * "wikilike" contains various user defined syntax tests as well as the not yet implemented per-field user defined syntax --- .../integration/user_defined_syntax/poem.out.osxml | 44 ++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 44 insertions(+) create mode 100644 testdata/integration/user_defined_syntax/poem.out.osxml (limited to 'testdata/integration/user_defined_syntax/poem.out.osxml') diff --git a/testdata/integration/user_defined_syntax/poem.out.osxml b/testdata/integration/user_defined_syntax/poem.out.osxml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6fe448d --- /dev/null +++ b/testdata/integration/user_defined_syntax/poem.out.osxml @@ -0,0 +1,44 @@ + + + + + + Among the river sallows, borne aloft + Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; + And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; + Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft + The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; + And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. + Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, + Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; + Conspiring with him how to load and bless + With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; + To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, + And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; + To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells + With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, + And still more, later flowers for the bees, + Until they think warm days will never cease, + For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. + + + Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? + Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find + Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, + Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; + Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, + Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook + Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: + And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep + Steady thy laden head across a brook; + Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, + Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. + + + Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? + Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,— + While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, + And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; + + + -- cgit v1.2.3