The shimada is perhaps the most elaborate, and certainly the most elegant, way of dressing the hair. It is generally adopted by geisha and young married women, dividing favour with the chōchō or butterfly coiffure. Respect for age is counselled in a rather pathetic protest by an old woman, who recalls her faded beauty in a conventional image. Nightingales and plum-trees are always associated in Japanese minds.
Once.
Mock not the puckered
Bloom of a dried plum;
Once on its fresh spray
Nightingales wept.
The umeboshi, a plum pickled in salt and shiso and afterwards dried, is as happily descriptive of the wizened monkey face of a Japanese crone as the peach of an Anglo-Saxon lassie's complexion. It will be seen that serio-comic touches of self-depreciation, like the old lady's frank comparison of faded bloom to dried fruit, do not jar on the Japanese. Sincerity—genuine feeling and just appreciation—is at the root of their poetic impulse. Why should a disappointed girl shrink from whispering her secret to the reeds of anonymous minstrelsy?
Rejection.
As vine weds ivy,
So would I clasp him;
If the man will not,
What can be done?
From the foregoing thirty Dodoitsu the reader can form a not inadequate opinion of "ditties sung by singing-girls to the twanging of the guitar." That
