"Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;
And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still;
No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill,
And willow stems grow daily red and bright.
These are days when ancients held a rite
Of expiation for the old year's ill,
And prayer to purify the new year's will."
Helen Hunt Jackson, A Calendar of Sonnet's: February
"Why do you hate vocabulary?" you ask. "Because it's boring!" - I'll answer.
So, since I'm a terrible bummer (lazy) and I have no interest in learning words as a poem, I decided to proceed as follows: for each learned word, will write one sentence, and sometimes I'll be more difficult to come up with two words (in one sentence of course). Interesting motivation, isn't it? You can follow my example. Let's rock!))