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Added first file operation example

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1 parent 1380d88 commit 1b397e5f92d0d6f413eda91c171894561194e62d @tlberglund tlberglund committed Aug 22, 2011
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+dependencies
+help
+projects
+properties
+tasks
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+If I had been a Heathen,
+I'd have praised the purple vine,
+My slaves should dig the vineyards,
+And I would drink the wine.
+But Higgins is a Heathen,
+And his slaves grow lean and grey,
+That he may drink some tepid milk
+Exactly twice a day.
+
+If I had been a Heathen,
+I'd have crowned Neaera's curls,
+And filled my life with love affairs,
+My house with dancing girls;
+But Higgins is a Heathen,
+And to lecture rooms is forced,
+Where his aunts, who are not married,
+Demand to be divorced.
+
+If I had been a Heathen,
+I'd have sent my armies forth,
+And dragged behind my chariots
+The Chieftains of the North.
+But Higgins is a Heathen,
+And he drives the dreary quill,
+To lend the poor that funny cash
+That makes them poorer still.
+
+If I had been a Heathen,
+I'd have piled my pyre on high,
+And in a great red whirlwind
+Gone roaring to the sky;
+But Higgins is a Heathen,
+And a richer man than I:
+And they put him in an oven,
+Just as if he were a pie.
+
+Now who that runs can read it,
+The riddle that I write,
+Of why this poor old sinner,
+Should sin without delight-
+But I, I cannot read it
+(Although I run and run),
+Of them that do not have the faith,
+And will not have the fun.
+
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+Out of the night that covers me,
+Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
+I thank whatever gods may be
+For my unconquerable soul.
+
+In the fell clutch of circumstance
+I have not winced nor cried aloud.
+Under the bludgeonings of chance
+My head is bloody, but unbowed.
+
+Beyond this place of wrath and tears
+Looms but the Horror of the shade,
+And yet the menace of the years
+Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
+
+It matters not how strait the gate,
+How charged with punishments the scroll.
+I am the master of my fate:
+I am the captain of my soul.
+
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+O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
+That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
+Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
+That ever lived in the tide of times.
+Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
+Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,
+Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
+To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue
+A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
+Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
+Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
+Blood and destruction shall be so in use
+And dreadful objects so familiar
+That mothers shall but smile when they behold
+Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
+All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
+And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
+With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
+Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
+Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
+That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
+With carrion men, groaning for burial.
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+I met a traveller from an antique land
+Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
+Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
+Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
+And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
+Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
+Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
+The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
+And on the pedestal these words appear:
+'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
+Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
+Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
+Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
+The lone and level sands stretch far away."
+
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+
+task copyPoems(type: Copy) {
+ from 'poems'
+ into 'build/poems'
+}

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