In 1925, Napier joined The Sydney Morning Herald. He subsequently became assistant editor of The Sydney Mail and leader-writer of the Sydney Morning Herald where in 1931 he compiled, with P S Allen, A Century of Journalism: The Sydney Morning Herald and Its Record of Australian Life 1831–1931. He contributed prose and verse to numerous English and Australian journals and newspapers, and published a collection of essays, The Magic Carpet in 1932.
On the Barrier Reef: Notes from a no-ologist's pocket-book
Walks abroad: Two Australians in the wilds of England, Scotland and Ireland
The Sydney Repertory Theatre : its history and significance; a criticism
Potted biographies
Great lovers
The genesis and growth of solicitors' associations in New South Wales: Together with a brief history of the Incorporated Law Institute of New South Wales
YOU who have lov'd will remember The sound of their farewell cheers Soothing, but never arresting, The march of your natural fears: You who have lov'd will remember The glow of their glad young years, As you stand to-day to salute them — In silence, with pride and with tears. Out of the peace of the dawning Into a fury of flame, Up thro' the Valley of Shadow To the light of the world they came, And bright on the roll of the nations, Broad on the banner of fame, With the opulent blood of their youth-time They painted Australia's name. You who have lov'd, remember: Tho' these whom you lov'd have died, Tho' the wearying years move onward And the ways of the world are wide; Tho' Gallipoli's graves may hold them And her whispering waters hide, The years have no power to part you, Nor the width of the world to divide; And to-day, as you stand to salute them, They, too, will be here, at your side!
ALL men are free and equal born Before the Law!’ So runs the worn And specious, lying, parrot-cry. All men are free—to starve or sigh; But few to feed on Egypt's corn.
There toils the sweated slave, forlorn; There weeps the babe with hunger torn; Dear God! Forgive us for the lie— All men are free! That man may laugh while this must mourn; One's heir to honour, one to scorn— Were they born free? Were you? Was I? No! Not when born, but when they die And of their robes—or rags—are shorn, All men are free!
France
OH, golden-lilied Queen—immortal France! Thou heritress of storied name and deed, As thou hast pluck’d, so oft, from cumb’ring weed The fragrant flow’rs of Freedom and Romance, So shalt thou seize to-day the fateful chance That comes to thee in this thy hour of need, When once again thy sacred frontiers bleed Beneath the thrust of the Invader’s lance. For, with the hour, hath also come again The pure and splendid spirit of the Maid To nerve they sons and wipe away thy tears, Till, sanctified by Sorrow, purged by pain, Thou shalt arise, unfettered, unafraid, And walk in honour down the deathless years.
Russia
IMPLACABLE as are thy arctic floes; Grim and gigantic as thy mountain height; Girt with thy pines for spindles and the light Of pale auroras for thy stars; to those Who know thee not thou seem’st as one who goes Unvex’d by Wrong, nor swerves to help the Right, A grey Lachesis of the Northern night, Stark as thy steppes and colder than thy snows. But we—we know thee now, Ally and Friend! True as thy Baltic Spars and tried by fire, Thy seeming coldness hides a courage high, A stern resolve to do, endure and die, So that the holy cause of thy desire— Thy cause and ours—shall triumph in the end.
Mater Dolorosa
JUST as of yore the friendly rain Patters its old and frank refrain; Just as of yore the world swings by The little window where I lie Watching the shadows wax and wane.
I see, beyond the Aegean main, His cross upon the grave-scarred plain— Yet still the dawn-flush climbs the sky, Just as of yore! His cross—and mine! They try in vain With careful phrase to stanch the pain; They say, ‘A hero's death!’ But I Long only for his footstep nigh; Long only for my boy again, Just as of yore!
