The season's turned, so I climb the hill. I can tell from the doorstep what kind of smell a house keeps when it keeps a human close.
My lady, the room has been kept just as it was.
Great-aunt, I'd appreciate some word ahead of your visits.
I climb the hill every season. I won't pretend I'm glad to.
The season's turned, so I climb the hill. I can tell from the doorstep what kind of smell a house keeps when it keeps a human close.

The last spot has held nothing but an empty frame for a hundred years. And for a hundred years, my nephew has slowed his steps in front of it.