From "The Person as Gift" by Anthony Esolen

What you do
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
I'd have yo do it ever; when you sing,
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms,
Pay so; and for the ordering of your affairs,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o'th'sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that--move still, still so,
And own not other function. Each your doings,
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.

It is, I believe, one of the profoundest expressions of love in all of literature, and not because it focuses upon the feelings of the lover, or upon the stripped body of the beloved. As mysterious as a wave of the sea, so mysterious and lovely are the movements of Perdita when she dances. Florizel whimsically imagines Perdita singing as she does the most mundane things, because when she sings, that is all he ever wants her to do. But his words cause us to see adn hear Perdita doing just that, as if, when she buys and sells, when she gives alms to a begger, or orders some groceries, she does sing, though only the lover can hear the melody. One cannot generalize from Perdita. There are no abstract laws that will account for her actions and dispel the mystery. What she does is "singular in each particular," and it is that never-to-be-replicated singularity, the beauty of the existence of this particular woman, that reveals her to the eyes of her lover, and causes him to exclaim that all her acts are queens. He knows Perdita, and he cannot ever come to an end of knowing her. Even a sunset or a tree, as Von Balthasar says, is always more than itself not less; and that is all the more true of the beauty of a virtuous woman, beheld by a virtuous man.