It always puts me in mind of these lines from one of John Donne's great poems:
TIS the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,
Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes,
The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes;
The worlds whole sap is sunke:
The generall balme th'hydroptique earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunke,
Dead and enterr'd; yet all these seeme to laugh,
Compar'd with mee, who am their Epitaph.
John Donne, A Nocturnall Upon St. Lucies Day, being the shortest day.
It's no wonder we feel the need to brighten things up with animated lights and sparkling decorations. Not to mention eating and drinking too much. Yes, folks, Christmas is coming...