THREE little boys talked together
One sunny summer day,
And I leaned out of the window
To hear what they had to say.
“The prettiest thing I ever saw,”
One of the little boys said,
“Was a bird in grandpa’s garden,
All black and white and red.”
“The prettiest thing I ever saw,”
Said the second little lad,
“Was a pony at the circus—
I wanted him awful bad.”
“I think,” said the third little fellow,
With a grave and gentle grace,
“That the prettiest thing in all the world
Is just my mother’s face.”