They grew between the bank and the water.

Apparently she found the fruit abundant, for her hand was making pretty progress to her mouth.

Fastidious youth, which revolts at woman plumping her exquisite proportions on bread-and-butter, and would (we must suppose) joyfully have her scraggy to have her poetical, can hardly object to dewberries.
Indeed the act of eating them is dainty and induces musing.

The dewberry is a sister to the lotus, and an innocent sister.

You eat: mouth, eye, and hand are occupied, and the undrugged mind free to roam.