Personally, I prefer the heat and humidity of a Canadian summer to the frigid winds of winter. I am a real Canadian and I like winter, but overall I do prefer summer. So to the Americans (especially southern Americans) who think that Canada is always a cold place, I invite you to read my poem. It's written in iambic verse, although I didn't realise it until it was finished. My bad.
An Ode to the Heat
Some say my nation is a place
Where ancient monarch's favoured grace
Is laid upon the sullied ground
Of those whose fates are ne'er more bound
To foggèd banks,
Or ceilinged skies.
Some say the cold, it is the place
Of all the members of our race.
Though race they know not anything,
For theirs is but a coloured string
Of migrant trains,
Likened to us.
Though of the cold-thought men be I,
The heat be that for which I cry,
And rail against the bitter winds!
The winter, with its cursèd strings
Visits mine eye,
Eye of the North.
Yet now the winds of Juno blow,
Which spreads the seeds of joy and sows
The joyful crops of youth and love.
And on the zephyrs from above,
The heat of June,
My one true love.
EDIT: I note in passing that the rhyming couplets are written in iambic tetrameter, and wish to inform the casual reader that that was entirely unintentional on my part. While I am aware of the provenance of iambic verse in English literature it was never my intention to duplicate the powerful and masterful styles of Shakespeare or Donne. As I stated, the poem's first stanza came to me while I was walking home.
None of my poems have ever been compared to Robert Graves, or any other great poet. Unfortunately, I must confess my ignorance of any comparison you've drawn as I know little of Graves' works. Personally, my two favourite poets are are Alfred Tennyson (British) and Edna St. Vincent Millay (American). It seems I'll have to do some reading in the near future. 
:lol
