Author Emily Dickinson A deed knocks first at thought,And then it knocks at will.That is the manufacturing spot,And will at home and well.It then goes out an act,Or is entombed so stillThat only to the ear of GodIts doom is audible. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments