His Last Words Poem by LIGHTCHEERFUL BRIGGS

The world was not his friend, nor the world's laws
The world affords no law to make him rich but poor was he not
For, he sups and gave to the poor once and again to their necessity
But they that sup with him labeled him a new name "inmate"
Alas, out of envious conspiracy they made him a prisoner
Though a prisoner he was but barren of all accusations
O'! What an innocent accusation that worth death sentence?
Is there no justice in the cloud that sees to the bottom of my grief?
He bewailed but none could see the naked truth of his innocence
As he sat in rancor, barred against all the freedom of life,
He was a man of right once but now to the freedom of oppression, death and doom.
As the day of his appointment with death fast approached
Death's second-self that seals up all in rest seemed to take forever to come;
Never knew he the comfort of sleep as he was kept in company of fear and anxiety
Only but the thought of the brand-new clothing to die in, the last meal,
The long walk to the chamber, and getting strapped into the chair;
I'm innocent, I'm innocent was his last words at the night of his execution
And of himself died ere the arrival of the Priest of viaticum.