Premise: Yes, in Keats' poems, life has a dreamy quality--but this is not a gorgeous swoon so much as the sense that somewhere, out of sight, we have already lived our actual lives, and that the life we are forced to feel through now is a posthumous remembrance of that earlier life, full of pain and loss.

Hypothesis: the dreamy quality life takes in Keats' poems is one akin to a gorgeous swoon. 
Relation: contradiction