Beauty is transitional, fading in and out as the years roll on....it cannot be forever as we are not forever yet each stage of life has a beauty all its own...... Of course this is but a poem and subject to poetic licence as Keats walks us through that misty glade, shielding us from stark reality....... Nothing lasts forever......
A lovely flowing read. Hinting at the negative that we are using Beauty to dispell the power off. Not my personal taste so much, i prefer poems of passionate strenth of emotion and struggle/strife, but This is a poem to which a person might drift to sleep and hope for sweet dreams.