Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.
How strange it is that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.
In this  stanza  Keats takes an existentialist approach and describes how can a man lead a life of pain, misery and fear of death and yet not fulfil his life by enjoying every moment like it’s his last. He implies that death is a gift compared to being awake.