With the art of limerick, we wield pen like sword
Perhaps we’ll strike a perfect Valentine’s chord
From our hearts we declare
True devotion is rare
Our only love?
—The Crimson Editorial Board

I think I might have a new crush
They speak with great length but their words never rush
But they drive me insane
And torment my brain
My thesis is making me blush

—Ellie H. Ashby ’24, an Editorial Comp Director, is a Social Studies Concentrator in Adams House.

I’ve heard tell of a Harvard romance
That ended by awful mischance
She so loved his notes
That she left off the quotes
So Garber’s left free to advance

—Lorenzo Z Ruiz ’27, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Greenough Hall.

The worst day of the year is upon us
Of Valentine’s Day, I’m not the fondest
We buy and we buy
Drain the chocolate supply
I just wish I had a date, to be honest

At my desk in the Quad, longing for love
Or some divine sign from the man up above
When from the sky, a voice does appear
With words no Social Studies man wants to hear
“Your future wife… she’s concentrating in Gov”

—Matthew E. Nekritz ’25, an Associate Editorial editor, is a Social Studies Concentrator in Cabot House.

Allow me to pay tribute to St. Valentine
Patron saint of beekeepers and epilepsy, says Catholic Online
Martyred then buried to the north of Rome
Lived at time with no Google Chrome
His legacy reduced to a candy heart: “Be Mine”

—Violet T.M. Barron, an Associate Editorial editor, is a Social Studies Concentrator in Adams House

Every Valentine’s, I let my heart run amuck
After Harvard situationships, I can’t help but feel stuck
But this Valentine’s brought a knock on my door,
How exciting, what could it be for?
Just another consulting club, I'm out of luck

—Jasmine N. Wynn ’27, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Thayer Hall.

Staring blankly for ages at my computer screen
Unsure of what writing a limerick could even mean.
I am better at Valentine’s prose,
But this idea is fun I suppose.
My final plea: don’t make me do this again for Halloween.

Sometimes, I miss Valentine’s Day at seven-years-old
When Fun Dip and Sour Patch were basically gold
That candy-filled box once held cereal
And the memory of it feels surreal
Is this elementary tradition too sweet to uphold?

—McKenna E. McKrell ’26, an Associate Editorial editor, is a Classics concentrator in Adams House.

School or life? It’s become quite muddy
For I’ve grown quite attached to my math PSET buddy
Not one day apart
His work is like art
Without him my proofs would truly be cruddy

—Max A. Palys, ’26 an Associate Editorial editor, is a double concentrator in Math and East Asian Studies in Currier House.

On Valentine’s, love’s in the air
But my bed’s the one I declare
With a snore and a sigh,
In dreamland, I'll lie,
Romance with my pillow, a love affair!

With DoorDash, my heart skips a beat,
No fancy dinner plans will compete.
Delivery at my door,
Love served, nothing more,
A feast on my couch, a Valentine’s treat!

—Hea Pushpraj ’25, an Associate Editorial editor, is a History Concentrator in Adams House.

To Fall semester Harvard FDOC…
I wish I could turn back the clock
The yard chairs are gone,
But psets keep on
And seemingly won’t ever stop

—Noah V. Parker ’27, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Grays Hall.

How I long for a romance bucolic
Where alone in the grass we could frolic
But those thoughts remain dreams
For at Harvard, it seems
Every résumé screams “workaholic.”

I’m hoping that Datamatch gifts me
The love of my life (Taylor) swiftly,
Last year’s was a blunder
It led me to wonder
If their Cupid had passed CS 50!

—Ian D. Svetkey ’25, an Associate Editorial editor, is a double concentrator in Physics and Integrative Biology in Eliot House.

On this 14th you can find me at night
Tracing curves in the low Lamont Library light
I'll be there with my date
Whom I love and I hate
A Calc pset, my Valentine’s plight

I have never seen passion that’s greater
Than in the comments of a Crimson hater
They call me mentally-ill
But I get such a thrill
Why can't I be loved with such labor

—E. Matteo Diaz ’27, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Grays Hall.

It’ll be cold and sad and an awful time
Not for me, honestly, I guess that’s the punchline
But don’t be glum
Maybe you’ll get some
Flowers or chocolate or a valentine

—Sidnee N. Klein ’25, an Associate Editorial editor, is a Sociology concentrator in Currier House.

Cupid’s arrow goes around and scouts
To find a perfect pair, without a doubt
But for some couples they near
The arrows quiver with fear
And “need some time to figure it out”

—Sandhya Kumar ’26, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Winthrop House.

This Valentine’s I hope to embark
Upon an enemies to lovers arc
Will you meet me there?
At the “castle” in Sorrento Square
Lit by neon Lampoon lights in the dark

—Matthew R. Tobin ’27, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Grays Hall.