Paul Fort (1 February 1872—20 April 1960) was a French poet associated with the Symbolist movement. At the age of 18, reacting against the Naturalistic theatre, Fort founded the Théâtre d’Art (1890–93). He also founded and edited the literary reviews Livre d'Art with Alfred Jarry and Vers et Prose (1905–14) with poet Guillaume Apollinaire, which published the work of Paul Valéry and other important Symbolist writers. Fort is notable for his enormous volume of poetry, having published more than thirty volumes of ballads and, according to Amy Lowell for creating the polyphonic prose form in his 'Ballades francaises' .
Born in Reims, Marne département, France, he became an important part of the artistic community of Montparnasse. While a student at the Lycée Louis-le-Grand in Paris, he founded the Théâtre d' Art in 1890. Many new artists were promoted there, including Paul Verlaine, Paul Gauguin, and Maurice Maeterlinck. By 1912 his accomplishments and influence were such that Verlaine gave him the title "Prince of the Poets."
One of his famous works was "La Ronde". This poem is famous world wide because it is a plea for world friendship.
He died on 20 April 1960 in France and is buried in the Cimetière de Montlhéry, in Montlhéry, Essonne département, in the Île-de-France, Region of France.
I RECOGNIZED him by his skips and hops,
And by his hair I knew that he was Pan.
Through sunny avenues he ran,
...
IVY has covered all the wall. How many hours, how many tears, since once we loved? How many days?
No roses now; ivy has torn the vine. Where is thy soul?... Climbing o'er the swallows nests, the ivy has stifled all the manor.
...
THE devil's ruby eyes peer all night long,
A-hunting mice to spit upon his little prong.
He kills three hundred thousand in his wrath,
...
THE sea is brown and green, and silver-flecked,
And roars as mountain-shadowed forests do.
The sky's grey velvet in the wind is checked
...
THE maidens short of stature, brown of hands,
With sickles hanging from their arms like moons,
Are drinking air from night's star-studded bowl,
And wending homewards from the woods at gloam.
...