You ask me too often not to care,
"Why do you sit all day and stare
At the shining sea and ships out there?"
But I respond: "No reason."

You ponder again without ado,
"Surely there is something true
Which you find in the water blue?"
But I reply again, "Not so."

Yet each day you do persist:
"Some beauty must have softly kissed
To make you look so long at this!"
But I return, "Not so."

But you won't give up your quest.
"What mystery comes at your behest
To wake your quiet soul from rest?"
But I answer, "Nothing--

"--And before you can ask more of me:
Nothing! And Nothing will there be!
Shouldn't I be asking things of thee?"
And you say nothing.