I bloom with beauty, soft to see, yet hide sharp guards to shelter me. A lover’s gift, both sweet and wise, what am I with thorns in disguise?

it's a quest word for me, so no alt words please. Golden soldiers stand in endless rows, whispering secrets in rustling tones. A staple of hearth and feast, ringing in fields of plenty.

Gem of the autumn, bright as a November sun, calming amber light.

I complete a martini and produce the best oil.

In the garden, green and sweet, a fragrant leaf you'll meet. With a hint of mint and clove, it’s a chef’s beloved trove.