The speaker looks inward and, instead of a mind full of abstract thoughts, finds something as ordinary as a closet. It's a place where old things are kept, and what's kept here belongs to a boy: his clothes, his mischief, a candle, and a great fear. The boy is likely the speaker's own younger self, though the poem never says so outright.
The list is quick and oddly mixed. Clothes are physical, mischief is playful, a candle suggests dim light or perhaps secrecy, and then the last line lands heavily with "a great fear." Placing it at the end, after small, familiar items, makes it feel like the thing at the back of the closet that you'd rather not touch. The mood is quiet, curious, and a little uneasy. The speaker doesn't explain or comment, which leaves the fear unexplained and gives it more weight. Memory here feels less like a story and more like a cramped space you open and glimpse into.