My first four are what you sit on. The last two are never off. As a whole, I holds things together.

You may be most familiar with the larger version of me, But I can assure you, that I can also be goat-like when seen With my mounted spear and cloven hooves, I delicately pick my way through the forest, My spear highly sought to cleanse and heal Fleet of foot, I flee from those no longer innocent in a sense I am beauty, I am grace, And leave practically no trace Do you know who I am?

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?

I complete a martini and produce the best oil.

I can announce, but I don’t greet. I’ve got a ring, but not for a finger. Push my buttons for service.