For centuries, I have been at the very heart of human activity on this island:
if the island were a cell, I’d be its nucleus,
if it were a solar system, I’d be its sun.

I reflect the changing tide of history:
if a cause needed serving, I served that cause.

When the island was holy, it had a monastery,
and when it was dismantled,
its stones became my foundation stones.

When the island was a farm
(an agricultural haven in a watery desert),
I was the farmhouse.

When lighthouse and fog-horn keepers needed feeding,
food was provided.

When the Victorians wanted a fortress,
I fed the soldiers.

When a cholera hospital was need,
I fed doctors and nurses,
and nourished survivors back to health.

When the Nazis threatened to invade,
and the island became an air defence system,
I became the Officers’ Mess.

When tourists on their daytrips from the city needed a drink,
I became the tavern: centre of joviality.

Nowadays, when human activity needs to protect and celebrate nature
(today more than ever),
I house the warden and the volunteers,
who farm the island’s healing,
providing a wild haven in a human-centred world.